


Words Just Sit Like Empty Scribbles

by Commodore_Enigma



Series: We've Been Lonely Too Long [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed has anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Violence, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commodore_Enigma/pseuds/Commodore_Enigma
Summary: With Gavin and Allen’s shared life comes separation, as Allen accepts work that takes him beyond the comfortable proximity of northern Colorado.In Allen’s absence, Gavin finds that the more fatal risks of their jobs never grow easier to think about. Unable to turn to his lover for comfort, Gavin seeks reassurance from Allen’s belongings.One night, Allen stumbles upon this bittersweet habit.
Relationships: Captain Allen/Gavin Reed
Series: We've Been Lonely Too Long [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604197
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Words Just Sit Like Empty Scribbles

**Author's Note:**

> Credit goes to my mom for helping with beta reading and the summary.  
> Title taken from the lyrics of "Compass" by Jamie Lidell.

With every step he took, pine needles snapped. Save for his breath, it was the only sound that filled the fog-shrouded forest, where boulders stood before every path he could take and trees towered over him. It should’ve been cold, but the fog didn’t press through his clothes and into his skin with a chilled, intrusive touch. He should’ve cared about direction, but he wandered with no set course. The forest, familiar yet foreboding, was like so many others he’d traveled through.

A gunshot pierced through the quiet, ringing through hills he couldn’t see. On instinct, he ran towards the sound.

Another shot echoed around him. Not even a second later, another.

His feet couldn’t move fast enough.

The gunshots ceased, and the only sound became his frenzied footsteps. Stones and boulders threatened to steer him off-course or snag him if he mis-stepped, but he didn’t slow down.

At last, the trees subsided, until no more silhouettes passed him by. He heard gasping interrupted by wet, hacking coughs, somewhere in the expanse of gray. 

He was no longer alone, but he wished to God he were.

His steps slowed down, so much that he doubted he’d reach them in time. The pained breaths made his stomach churn, yet he continued moving toward its source.

The fog thinned, enough to see a man in black laying on the ground, the dirt surrounding him stained with blood, a trail of red running from his lips. Beneath his coat, his chest stopped heaving, replaced by a barely visible rise and fall.

It was _him_. His own heart plummeted in a never-ending descent.

He tried to scream his name, but no sound escaped. He tried running to him, but he couldn’t move. The man’s body went still with a shudder, one last cough escaping him. 

Only then could he race to his side. 

Despite the screams that burned his throat, echoing through the curtain of gray, the dull green eyes staring up at nothing never regained their spark.

There was blood, _so_ much blood. His hand pressed to the bullet holes that pierced the chest, stopping the bleeding once it’d become a pointless endeavor. As he wiped the blood away from his lips, he couldn’t feel the fading warmth of his skin.

A sob escaped him. He shouted again, his agony falling on deaf ears.

“ _Kent!_ ” He screamed into emptiness, a final strangled cry for his lover.

His body crashed to the ground. Pain arose along his side. The linens that smothered his dampened body provided little protection from the floor.

In the darkness, nothing replied. He struggled to catch his breath, adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins.

Just like every other time, he comforted himself with a statement he partially believed.

_It was just a dream._

_Just a dream._

_Just a dream…_

Untangling himself from his bedsheets was difficult with shaking hands, his palms soaked by what he knew, yet still feared, wasn’t sweat.

He staggered to his feet, trampling the pile of sheets as he fumbled for the kerosene lamp. When he found it at last, a soft light filled the room. The flask of water he’d staged as a precaution, both for the dry Colorado climate and settling his vivid mind, sat on the nightstand. He grasped it, bringing it to his lips and gulping down the water. Though his lungs still pleaded for air, the relief the water brought to his parched throat was too satisfying.

The water helped his dried mouth and throat, but the twisting in his stomach refused to subside, and he collapsed onto his mattress.

_He’s fine._

_Most likely._

He’d endured so many confrontations before; the scars Gavin had traced and committed to memory were testament to that.

However, the life of a bounty hunter was as unpredictable as his own. One slip-up in Kent’s careful tactics or luck leaving his favor was all it would take, and he’d be gone forever.

A tremor returned to his fingers, and his hands clenched into fists on his lap. Despite the deep breaths he tried to take, a pain twisted in his chest, winding so tight it hurt.

He tried distracting himself by tossing the sheets back on the bed, so he could at least attempt to sleep again. Not for the first time, he wished Kent wasn’t off in the great expanse of the Utah Territory, guarding a coach on its tentative, winding route through the mountains.

Somewhere in that vast expanse between Denver and Salt Lake City was Kent. Alive, doing fine.

He was fine.

They were _both_ fine.

Despite that, Gavin thought of the deep scars on Kent’s chest. The newly-healed gash on his forearm. Kent laying dead in a fog-shrouded forest, in a pool of his own blood.

His mind was getting nowhere. Kent always soothed him so well, whispering the same reassurances in such a tender way that helped stall his fears, yet he could never replicate those feelings himself. Everything he told himself felt forced; without Kent’s arms around him, his gentle words rustling his hair, it felt like an endless stream of lies.

With at least his throat feeling better, Gavin forced himself to move on legs that felt too weak. He staggered to his dresser, desperate to stop the pit of despair he was slipping further into.

Opening one of the drawers, he found Kent’s shirts, all folded up neatly with the exception of one. His hands went to the blue shirt, folded with little attention a few nights prior and stowed until it was needed again.

He gathered it up and closed the drawer. Gavin felt the thick, rough texture he knew so well. The times he’d used it to pull Kent in for a breathless kiss, the two of them the only humans around for miles, returned to him. With it came a bittersweet spark of affection.

Darkness settled over the room, and he slipped back beneath the sheets, clutching the shirt to his chest.

Gavin curled himself around it protectively, nuzzling at the collar, clinging to it as if he were embracing Kent instead. He breathed in the familiar, faded scents of his beloved. His favorite aftershave with its bite of witch hazel, the smoke of campfires, the tang of gun oil, worn leather.

The twisting of Gavin’s stomach and heart weakened as the budding habit brought a semblance of comfort.

Though the desolate forest returned to his mind, it felt less real. Still painful, still possible, but Kent’s shirt in his arms softened the blows to his heart.

Eventually, his body remembered how exhausted it was, from both the events of the night and a day spent riding up to Manhattan and dealing with its distinctive citizens.

As he drifted off, the feeling of Kent’s shirt warmed up against him felt almost, _almost_ like the real thing.

Yet the emptiness in his heart persisted.

He sat at a scarred wooden desk, a stack of papers before him, scratching a pen against a page. Nothing showed up on the paper. Over the faint sounds of passing conversations and horses’ hooves, people going about their day outside, he heard a voice in front of him. Saying… something, in a short murmur gone as fast as it’d arrived.

On instinct, the directionless scrawlings continued.

Footsteps creaked, quiet enough to be something imagined. He kept working.

Something tugged against his hands, and the desk and papers before him began to disappear.

Though it was dark, a light shined through, and Gavin grumbled at that. He held something in his hands, and he nuzzled at its crumpled form in defiance.

“Gavin…” there was the voice again, husky, soft, _familiar_. Too familiar, at that.

The material in his grip began slipping, and Gavin held it to his chest.

Despite his firm grasp, it was pulled away with an abrupt and well-timed tug.

“Fuck off,” he cursed, hands snatching at empty air until his fingertips brushed against something else. 

_Someone_ else, for that matter.

His heart jolted, his eyes flew open, and his hand reached for the drawer where his revolver lay at the ready-

“Easy there,” the voice said, steady and cautious.

He looked up, and his aggression vanished.

Kent sat on the edge of the bed, loosely holding the shirt that lay in a crumpled pile between them. The kerosene lamp beside them bathed his features in a soft gold. Though his eyebrows were furrowed, Gavin saw no malice in his expression, just an unspoken curiosity as he looked Gavin over. 

His heart thundered. “Kent…?” he asked, almost a whisper. As if Kent would disappear, or misfortune would befall him if he spoke at his usual volume.

“Hey, Gav,” he whispered back, tired but affectionate, offering him a small smile.

The shadows beneath his eyes were more defined, and it couldn’t just be from the lighting. 

Even then, he looked beautiful.

_Too beautiful, at that_ , he thought with a twinge of his heart as he sat up.

He reached out his hand, letting his unsteady fingers brush along the sleeve of Kent’s dress shirt. It held a subtle softness and warmth, the way he remembered it.

Kent remained still as Gavin’s hand moved to the black material of his vest, stroking over the fabric. When Gavin inspected his palm, he found no blood. Just specks of dirt and light gray hairs from a horse’s coat.

He brought his hand back to Kent’s chest, splaying it over his heart. Beneath his palm, Kent’s heartbeat was steady, his lungs expanding and contracting with every breath.

Only then, did he dare to look Kent in the eye again.

“It’s been that bad, huh?” Kent asked, watching him with concern. 

A new wave of guilt washed over him at that. Kent was staying vague, and the few shreds of pride Gavin had left appreciated that. It was too late at night, or early in the morning, to handle another of Kent’s stiff but well-meaning attempts at talking him out of listening to his own most unwelcome thoughts. 

At the end of the day, they were a looming reality of their life together. Kent was stubborn, but he wasn’t a fool; he thought about it as much as Gavin did, even if he seldom spoke directly of it. There’d always be that fear, that _threat_ , that one moment they’d be alive and the next dead. That Kent may set out one day astride his trusty horse and never come back, that it could take weeks, even _months_ to hear of his...

His hand pressed harder to Kent’s chest, moving with the rise and fall of every breath taken. Gavin didn’t want to think about it further, so he kept his response vague, too. A scratchy, surface-level admission of “bad enough.” 

Gavin leaned in, Kent did the same, and their foreheads pressed together. Kent’s heart remained steady under his hand, his breath warm and soft against Gavin’s lips. He closed his eyes and focused on those sensations. 

Slowly, everything else began to fade away. All that remained was Kent and the gentle warmth that’d filled his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a good two weeks.

Kent’s hand covered the one against his chest, fingers settling between Gavin’s. 

His mind was on the subject Gavin had almost left in the dust, until its inevitable return. “I’m fine, Gav. Don’t worry about me so much.” He murmured, giving Gavin’s hand a gentle squeeze.

_Like I’ll ever stop worrying, you goddamn-_

Part of him wanted to spit the words out and start another confrontation. Instead, he weakly shook his head. “Don’t you go startin’ on that. Just.. let us have this moment, alright?”

“Alright,” Kent agreed after a pause. His thumb caressed Gavin’s palm.

They stayed that way for some time, taking in the stillness of the night, the renewed proximity.

After some time, Kent breathed out a soft sigh and pulled away, the back of his fingers brushing over Gavin’s jaw.

When his hand went under Gavin’s chin, his thumb pressing into the soft skin, Gavin tilted it up on instinct, and their lips met in a chaste kiss. Kent’s hand moved to cradle his jaw, and beneath Gavin’s splayed hand Kent’s heart sped up, but the kiss didn’t evolve further.

They pulled apart, Kent gazed at him with unbridled affection, and Gavin decided not for the first time that he wouldn’t trade his reunions with Kent for the world.

Kent joined him under the sheets, coaxing Gavin towards his chest with a hand pressed to his shoulder. Gavin didn’t need further convincing; he turned around and hid his face against his neck, his arm draping over Kent’s waist. Kent’s fingers combed through his hair sleepily, his chin settling against Gavin’s head.

It didn’t need saying. Gavin said it anyway, whispering the words against Kent’s collarbone. “I missed you.”

Kent pressed a kiss to his hair, his hand settling against Gavin’s back. “I missed you, too.”

The blue shirt, where it lay crumpled on the floor alongside Kent’s travel-dirtied clothes, was forgotten. So was the foggy forest.

Gavin fell back asleep, the calm that’d settled over him remaining as he lay in Kent’s arms.

For now, no nightmares awaited him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
